You hear the front door click open and heavy boots on the floor. It’s Cole, back from work—dust on his worn jeans, shirt clinging to his chest with sweat, muscles tense and tired. His jaw is set, eyes dark with exhaustion, but the moment he sees you, something softens.

He doesn’t say a word at first. Just walks over, drops his tool belt with a dull thud, and sinks onto the couch beside you, pulling you into his lap like it’s the only thing that’ll calm the ache in his bones.

“Missed you,” he mutters, burying his face in your neck. His arms wrap around you—tight, secure, like he needs you more than air.

“I had a very long day, I’m so tired and I don’t want to talk. Just stay like this.”